


all these little things

by randomtuna13 (belindarimbi13)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Comfort Reading, Established Relationship, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Inspired by Fanart, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, Translation, Translation Available
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-16 23:48:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19328596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belindarimbi13/pseuds/randomtuna13
Summary: "Crowley," he began. The demon fixed his gaze. Their eyes met. Aziraphale saw nothing but relief on Crowley's face because he was finally willing to talk.And one mundane question that had weighed Aziraphale's mind, blurted out."Do you think I'm too fat?"





	all these little things

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Все эти маленькие штучки](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20312035) by [HeathrowLiss (LollyBomb95)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LollyBomb95/pseuds/HeathrowLiss)
  * A translation of [all these little things](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19321201) by [randomtuna13 (belindarimbi13)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/belindarimbi13/pseuds/randomtuna13). 



>  
> 
> **disclaimer & note:**
> 
>   * Good Omens is a novel by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gailman, adapted into a TV series by BBC and Amazon Prime and directed by Douglas MacKinnon.
> 
>   * The title is taken from the lyrics of _Little Things_ that was popularized by One Direction & is part of the Take Me Home album (2012); written by Ed Sheeran and Fiona Bevan.
> 
>   * This is dedicated for [**@spn_xoxox**](https://twitter.com/spn_xoxox/) who has created such a beautiful comic that inspires this story and [**@seiryo_119**](https://twitter.com/seiryo_119) who has kindly translated them to English. Thank you ♥
> 
> 

> 
>   
> 

 

Aziraphale never not realized that he was an angel. When Aziraphale said _never_ , it truly meant what it means–not ever, as in _not at all_. Even since six thousands years ago when Aziraphale was introduced to human for the very first time, he never once identified himself as one of them. Aziraphale could enjoy theatre performances and mingle with the crowd, but he was still an angel. Aziraphale could get in the line to buy scones and he was still an angel. Aziraphale would be meeting fellow collectors and competing with them to win an antique book auction, but he would always be an angel.

Being an angel was part of Aziraphale, because that was his identity. It was just who he was.

That was why some things which only belong to humans, did not apply to Aziraphale. You name it: habits, terms and slang, certain behaviours, and ... appearance.

For six thousands years, Aziraphale never once identified himself as a human. He never questioned why he was different from humans, because Aziraphale was fully aware that he, in fact, was not them. And that was never a problem.

–until now.

"You haven't turned the pages, angel," Crowley said, interrupting Aziraphale's mild identity crisis. Aziraphale shifted his attention from the book he was holding and dropped his gaze on the demon that was lying comfortably on his lap.

Night in Soho would always be spent together in the back room of the Aziraphale's bookshop. After enjoying dinner at the Ritz, they would sit and chat here. Or maybe doing something else, like ... doing nothing. Just enjoying the comfortable and content silence. Aziraphale with his book collection and Crowley, falling asleep on his lap.

"You're thinking too hard." Crowley's snake-like eyes blinked, not fully investigating. Just curious, maybe. His manicured fingers reached to take the book from the angel's hand. Aziraphale did not protest. "Do you want to tell me?"

Aziraphale took a deep breath, trying to smile. He should know to try harder if he wanted to convince Crowley with his _eveything-is-fine-stop-worrying-me_ smile, because Crowley always knew.

The demon rose and sat to face Aziraphale.

"What's wrong, angel?" There was note of fears tucked away in his voice, even though Crowley did not fully understand what was happening. Aziraphale smiled softly.  _Of course Crowley cares_ , he thought.

"Just thinking about what some customers said this afternoon." Aziraphale decided to answer vaguely. As the embodiment of goodness and virtue, he was admittedly very poor at lying. Especially lying to Crowley.

"What were they saying?" Then, realization dawned on Crowley's face. "For Hell's sake, if it's about those property developers bidding on your bookshop  _again_ –"

"Oh, not them, my dear!" Aziraphale interrupted quickly. "I've handled it, do you remember? It's about another customers." Crowley remained unconvinced, so Aziraphale added for good measure, "there is nothing to worry about."

"Listen, angel. I know, you can perfectly handle your customers. But if someone is trying to buy your book way too cheap, or someone is getting all mad at you, just because you can't sell your collection to just anyone, or–I don't know, any kind of bastards who come here, you have me," Crowley said.

Aziraphale sipped his wine quietly; listening to Crowley gone protective over him, really warmed his heart. "I have you? What for?"

Crowley grinned devilishly. "To tempt them or get them into trouble, your pick."

Aziraphale chuckled. "Your little demonic miracle, eh?"

"This one isn't a miracle, angel," he said, taking the wine glass from Aziraphale's hand. "This one is my job."

Aziraphale was still smiling, watching Crowley's hand wrapping the glass elegantly, his pink lips sipping the red liquid. This simple domestic scene made him shiver. Aziraphale almost lost the little moments like this. Now, he could not imagine not seeing Crowley in his element–just being himself, this close. Just thinking about it, scared Aziraphale.

"Angel, tell me what's happening in the head of yours." Crowley touched Aziraphale's cheek. The angel swallowed hard, suddenly feeling so nervous.

"Crowley," he began. The demon fixed his gaze. Their eyes met. Aziraphale saw nothing but relief on Crowley's face because he was finally willing to talk.

And one mundane question that had weighed Aziraphale's mind, blurted out.

"Do you think I'm too fat?"

Crowley's hand that had been softly stroking Aziraphale's face, stopped abruptly. His yellow eyes narrowed.

"What?" That word sounded strange and cold.

Aziraphale lowered Crowley's hand from his cheek. Crowley did not argue. Aziraphale looked down at his own lap, avoiding eye contact.

"A pair of young women came to my shop this afternoon. I didn't know what they were looking for. You couldn't find a book, from whoever it was John Green or Stephenie Meyer, here. Maybe they thought my bookshop provided everything. At first I didn't know what they were looking for, that's why I let them going around, wandering and looking for what they might be looking for, young people getting interested in literature really please me. Always has.

"They stood by the window. I saw them and I thought to myself,  _ah, interested in Aristotle at a very unexpected age, I could approach them and suggest one or two books that could help their philosophical journey_. Until I realized, they weren't looking at my books. They were looking at you. "

Aziraphale remembered what happened very clearly. Those young women not only gazing lustfully at Crowley who's just walking out from his Bentley, but also gushing about him with apparent interest.

"They were looking at me?" Crowley frowned, confused.

"And talking about you," Aziraphale laughed nervously. "I mean, at first they talked about other people. A man and his wife, the owner of the cafe across the street. You know, the husband that you said resembled someone who was drowned in the Titanic and his wife, a woman who was 'too cheerful for your taste'? They always give us discounts when we're ordering pancakes. "

Aziraphale smiled, thinking of the legendary pancake only served by the Higgins couple.

"The first young woman said, it was strange that such a handsome man could end up with a 'fat lump' like that. And the other one, replied: 'That fat lump' should be aware of how big she was, if she doesn't want to lose the handsome man."

"For. Hell's. Sake." Crowley growled. "What. Kind. Of. Bullshit. Is. That."

"And," Aziraphale continued. "When they saw you, they were clearly amazed by your charm ... your demonic vibe. It tends to lure people, I believe. I could see it really worked, they were very enthusiastic when it turned out you were coming here, you know."

"That's why you didn't kiss me like usual when I came and instead hid behind a stack of old, dusty circus magazines here?" Crowley asked softly.

Aziraphale inhaled deeply. The young women had not left yet, when Aziraphale returned from his _oops-I-already-kiss-you-I-guess-we-should-make-out_ session he had been through for a full ten minutes with Crowley. It was very obvious, his smile was forced while answering  _'no, we didn't have it here'_  politely when they asked whether Aziraphale had the books from John Green and Stephenie Meyer.

The two young women had glanced mournfully to where Crowley disappeared from their sight, before turning around and leaving.

"I can't believe this. Do you believe the human's talking, now, Aziraphale?" Crowley shook his head, frustrated. "What else would you ask me? What do I think about your clothes? Do I think you should go on a diet program? What's more, do I think it's time for you to take insurance, just in case you get a stroke?"

"Crowley, you're overreacting." Aziraphale cut sharply, but still avoiding eye contact. "Maybe I _am_ overweight indeed, I just want to know from someone else's perspective."

"For God's sake, Aziraphale."

Aziraphale stunned to silence. Crowley always avoided mentioning His name. Being a demon meant not having the obligation to glorify and praise the God's name. Being a demon meant avoiding everything related to the Father of Creation, because  _hello, demons?_   Cast out from heaven for breaking His command? Pretty sure, that God would not appreciate His name being spoken from the mouth of Hell's lot.

Aziraphale was very aware of this irony.

"Do you know, what am I?" Crowley asked softly. He sounded tired, as if raising his tone while speaking to the angel, draining so much energy of his.

"If you say I'm an aardvark, I will kill you." The joke was never old. Aziraphale snorted out laugh involuntarily.

But, he also managed to answer in all seriousness. "You're a demon, Crowley."

"And you, Aziraphale?"

"Angel." Aziraphale took a slow breath. "I am an angel."

Suddenly, he felt a pair of hands touch his face. Crowley made Aziraphale to look up and force their eyes to meet. Crowley was so concentrated on him, desperate to make him understand. As if anything that might cross Aziraphale's face, suffered him. Aziraphale could feel his own throat tighten, choking him.

"Isn't it clear to you that we are not human?" Aziraphale bit his lip. Crowley caressed his face. "We are not human, angel. Not and will never be a human. I can not bear to–think–to imagine, you doubt yourself like this. Heaven and Hell may not consider you a perfect angel. People may not see you as I see you. And that–it is a great tragedy.

"But, never do that again. Because you will always be the most perfect creature in my eyes. I never thought about your physical appearance, Aziraphale. You are a celestial being. Always be. Only in this realm, you are in the form of a human. You are _an angel in the human body_ , not just a human. You're not human. I'm not human. We are not human, Aziraphale."

Crowley closed his eyes. Aziraphale's heart broke, watching Crowley bearing the unnecessary pain on his behalf.

"You never let someone else's comments influence you before. Even when I mocked the British aristocratic clothes you wore during the French Revolution. Or when I mentioned about your tartan scarf." Crowley laughed hoarsely. "What I said was never to make you inferior, I did it because I was too coward to say that your typical appearance which I sometimes thought was ridiculous, made me fall in love with you, again and again.

"I always indulge you to try new restaurants or try new foods, and I will comment badly, but that's because I'm too coward to say that seeing your happy face is like having my personal heaven. You were  _beaming_  when I invited you to visit that magic museum, and I said,  _control yourself, Aziraphale_ , but the truth is I had to refrain myself from pulling your collar and kissing you senseless in front of everyone because my goodness, I can barely handle to see you radiating such happiness and doing nothing. "

Crowley panted softly, after spilling all the little secrets he had kept from Aziraphale.

 _This is someone that I love greatly and love me_ , Aziraphale thought, overwhelmed by the rushing affection that hit him like tsunami. No one would understand how much Aziraphale loved Crowley.

"You're beautiful, Aziraphale. I can't imagine there is another creature that is as beautiful as you."

Or maybe, Crowley knew. He always loved Aziraphale that much, too.

Aziraphale touched Crowley's hand, trying to hold it close to his cheek. "I'm sorry, my dear," he whispered thickly.

"Oh, angel," Crowley leaned forward and kissed Aziraphale's forehead. "There's nothing to apologize."

Crowley still put his chin in Aziraphale's hair and their hands clasped together. The next second, he hugged Aziraphale tightly. Aziraphale closed his eyes, content to be engulfed in warmth that radiates from the demon. Being in Crowley's arms always gave him a sense of security; to be treated, valued, and loved so much, as if Aziraphale was the most precious thing for Crowley in this entire universe.

"If you're not fat, I won't hug you so often," Crowley said, breaking the silence. He buried his face on Aziraphale's neck. "You know, you are very huggable."

Aziraphale laughed. "So, you only use me to be your pillow?"

"Can be." Crowley nuzzled his nose against the crook of Aziraphale's neck. The angel shuddered. He could feel Crowley grinning on the surface of his skin. "You're warm. Comfortable. It feels like home. I'd be cuddling you 24/7, if you allow it."

Aziraphale ran his fingers on Crowley's nape, combing his hair. "My dear, you are the only one who's allowed to hug me, any time."

"Only me?"

Aziraphale confirmed cheekily. "Just you." Then, because he was such a softie, he added, "I'm yours, darling ."

Crowley took a sharp breath, and before long, Aziraphale felt a soft kiss under his ear.

"And I'm yours, angel ."

 

•  **fin •**

 

**Author's Note:**

> > This fanfiction is inspired by [ **this fanart**](https://twitter.com/spn_xoxox/status/1142311685610336257?s=19). Please, kindly check it out! It is very awesome!
> 
> I was thinking about body positivity idea too and I did wrote some lines before I edited them out because none of it seemed fitting :'') Because the main idea is to tell that Aziraphale and Crowley are beyond human's term and such. Some labels may not work with them. So what if Aziraphale has soft tummy? It just makes him more huggable.
> 
> I always wanted to write something based on this song, because the song was one of my favorite, yeah I finally did it! I'm still practising to write in English, so please don't hesitate to point out mistakes and such, I'm very happy to be corrected 😄
> 
> Thank you for reading! Kudos and reviews will really brighten my day ♥
> 
>  
> 
>  


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